Ok, so I know this chapter is exceedingly short. I am truly sorry (not really). I just did it to mess with your heads and drag things out a bit longer. Kidding, kidding, don't kill me *covers head and expects to be hit*. This story will be plenty long enough without that. I am already planning sequels because you know what? happy endings are boring. So the reason this is a seperate chapter from other impending events is because it was longer than I planned on it being and I though that it wouldn't quite fit with the next chapter so I thought, what the hell, it'll be by itself.
Enjoy it anyway and leave me lots of reviews. They make me feel like I am eating fluffy whipped cream, and I am a monster who only eats whipped cream and other desert-ey types of junk food. Actually, throw me some healthy carrots and whatever in the form of criticism in there. They're good for my eyesight. :)
Kurt had just realized he had no idea where the Dean's office was.
He had been there once, when he first transferred, but he had never been very good with directions and wasn't the type of student who misbehaved badly enough to go there often. He thought he had been overly-acquainted with the principal's office in McKinley even though he had only been there a few times, namely the Karofsky incident, the time when he got drunk thanks to the influence of a certain April Rhodes, and when his father had complained about Kurt not being considered for the solo in "Defying Gravity."
He still needed to get there to execute his plan though, and resolved to ask the next student he came upon. He pulled aside what appeared to be a freshman: he was significantly shorter than Kurt, which was easier to be after his three-inch growth spurt last year. From the way the freshman looked at him, Kurt could tell he saw nothing but the ostentatious Warbler badge still on his blazer though he had blatantly skipped the last few rehearsals. He could almost see the gears turning in the puny, trembling boy's head as the ones labeled "Warblers" and "rock star" lined up with and equal sign between them.
"Would you mind telling me where the Dean's office is?" Kurt said in a quiet voice so as to not scare the boy. Honestly, he had been at Dalton for over half a year already, longer than Kurt himself had, so what was he so afraid of?
The freshman managed not to shake any more than he already was, and replied in a mechanical voice, "You go to the end of the main hall and go up three flights of stairs on the left, and then you go straight down the hallway you end up facing without any turns and go through the door directly in front of you. The secretary will let you through to the Dean."
The boy said it as though he had heard those exact directions from teachers several times already, and was repeating them like he had them memorized. Kurt was just a little shocked; he wouldn't have pegged someone that nervous as a troublemaker.
Never judge a book by its cover, Kurt thought, using the cliché expression that had always suited his life perfectly. People had been judging him by his looks, and later his fashion sense, from before he even knew he was different. If it applied to him, it applied equally or more so to his old Glee club. They were an eclectic but beautiful mix of personalities and social groups brought together by a common love for music and a need for acceptance, which they found in each other.
Kurt snapped himself out of his reverie involving fond memories of his old friends. He released the very relieved-looking student's shoulder and thought to himself, Now is not the time for this. You are on a mission. I repeat, a mission.
He set off down the hallway at an expeditious pace, repeating the instructions over and over in his head to make sure he didn't forget them. He knew if anyone ever asked HIM how to find the Dean's office, he would sound just like that freshman he had encountered: Mechanic and monotonous. Oh well. The least he could do was to make sure a new Dean was sitting in it by the time someone asked him where to find the office.
He was on a mission.
I oficially apologise for my odd metaphor above. It is late (early?) and I can't sleep.